Perception
by goodomen
Summary: Ron helps Harry coping with his grief. One-shot.


Ron noticed a change in his best friend. His movements were slow and rather mindless. He didn't speak very often. When he smiled, it looked like an effort. He was growing thin from not eating. His green eyes were bloodshot from lack of fatigue. Harry wasn't well.  
  
Ron wanted to help but he no idea what to do. Harry had always been troubled, but he was never as bad as he'd been since returning from the ministry.  
  
Harry needed a life line, but he was in such deep water that it would have to be a long one.  
  
With only a few days left before summer break, Ron came into the boys' dorm to see Harry sitting on the edge of his bed next to a half-packed trunk, his head in his hands.  
  
"Are you okay, mate?" he asked quietly.  
  
Harry's head slowly lifted and he gave a pained smile. "Yeah." His voice sounded choked as if he were trying to hold back tears.  
  
Ron knelt and picked up a shirt to toss into the open trunk, merely as an excuse to do something in the moment's awkwardness.  
  
"What am I going to do?" Harry asked into the silence between them, sounding even more broken than before.  
  
Ron cleared his throat.  
  
"I don't think I can do this anymore."  
  
"Do what?" As soon as it came out, Ron wished he had been more tactful.  
  
Harry rubbed his palm into his eyes. "Be Harry Potter. I'm not the savior of the world. Saviors are supposed to be powerful, motivated and strong. They're supposed to be capable of defeating the enemy."  
  
There was a pause in which Ron threw another shirt from the floor into the trunk.  
  
"I can't defeat Voldemort. I feel like I'm only a boy. Everyone expects so much."  
  
Ron tried to appear properly supportive as he patted Harry on the shoulder. Harry faced him.  
  
"Every time I try to envision winning the war, all I can imagine is being tortured and killed. I just want to grow up like a normal child, graduate from school and play Quidditch for England or something. And get a flat with you."  
  
Images surfaced in Harry's mind and he watched them. The inside of his cupboard. Bars on his window. The white finger of the Dark Lord on his face. Cedric dead in the grass. Bellatrix Lestrange cackling with insane laughter. His godfather disappearing behind the veil.  
  
He let out a sob. The first he hadn't been able to suppress.  
  
Ron faltered. He and Harry were best friends, and comforting each other should have been second nature, but it had become more confusing over the years.  
  
Ron needed a good role model. His mother. She would hug Harry right now. Wrap her loving arms around his back and bring his head to rest on her chest.  
  
So Ron did just that.  
  
Harry didn't resist the touch. It was something he had always needed on a subconscious level. Care wasn't something that was given to him at the Dursley's. He'd felt accepted at the Burrow and Hogwarts, but he'd never truly been given a physical and unmistakable sign of love.  
  
Until the moment when Ron's arms encircled him.  
  
Harry's fragile body was racked with sobs in Ron's arms. The longer they stayed close, the more natural it became. Ron rubbed Harry's back and held him tightly. Harry's hands clenched in fists behind Ron's neck. They sunk to the floor and Ron leaned against the bed, Harry's head in his lap.  
  
Ron closed his eyes to stop the prickling behind them. He rocked slowly and instinctively clung tighter to his friend. Out of nowhere he hummed a non- specific song that he remembered hearing at some point in his youth. Harry's muscles relaxed and he seemed to liquefy into the embrace.  
  
"Promise, Ron, that you'll never leave," Harry whispered.  
  
Ron screwed up his face and tried to force his chest not to contract quite so painfully. "I'll always be here."  
  
Harry's wet eyes peered into Ron's questioningly. Ron's hand was on the back of his neck and Harry's hand was on Ron's thigh. They'd suddenly reached the delicate balance of comfort and love that was just right for both of them.  
  
Ever so cautiously, Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to Ron's.  
  
It was tender and youthful, full of the intricate feelings the two boys held for each other.  
  
Harry's mouth moved to form the words 'I love you,' but he couldn't seem to speak properly.  
  
Ron understood perfectly.  
  
---  
  
Please review.  



End file.
